100,000 Children in the UK Go Missing Every Year, 25% of Whom Come from the Care Sector

By Ray Wilson

Chemicals of Fear

“All the chemicals of fear flooded the body and salted the meat.” – Stephen King

I watch young Cilla; she mercilessly apprehends her prey—the mouse scurries back and forth in an attempt to escape death; it slips under a wooden storage trunk. Cilla is a very patient cat. She finds a comfortable vantage point within easy striking distance and waits.

It is early morning, and we have much to do. We had to leave Cilla to her vigil.

By the time we arrived in Hyde Park, it was already past the eleventh hour as we decanted ourselves into the crowds—into the raw primordial liquid energy—immediately into its flow. The fear was banished, and a sense of belonging ignited like a chemical reaction as we navigated our way through the bustling crowds. The sense of raw energy enveloped me, the missus, and our friend Trev, drawing us deeper into its pulse.

The sun shone, music of all genres intermingled with impassioned conversation, people with megaphones blasted out their truth, others talked quietly, and some looked skyward as if in a silent prayer. The flags flew, handwritten banners protesting against the tyranny of the government—draconian medical interventions and the loss of bodily autonomy—governments hell bent on bending or breaking the will of their people to their lunatic madness. People gather around a speaker as she discusses satanic ritual abuse, including the murdering and other deprived practices on vulnerable people, including children. The perpetrators fear exposure—fear the truth being laid bare in the light. Fear is their strongest weapon, and silence is their second. The speaker states that over 100,000 children in the UK go missing every year, 25% of whom come from the care sector.

“I’ve been crying all morning, so I’m going to try and get through this without crying, so just bear with me; it’s the first time I’ve done this on this scale and on their turf,” she begins. “This is the turf where I was held captive—where I experienced the atrocities that I’m going to talk about today. To come back here is a huge thing for me to do today. I want to take these bastards down. Just over a year ago, I decided to speak out publicly. I did it on social media. It took me over 20 years of healing and recovery to reach that point. I spent 20 years in isolation, knowing that one day I would get to this point where I could be speaking to you and that people would finally hear my voice, but what motivates me more is to honour the lives of all the children and the babies that I saw murdered at the hands of the elites and the people that are meant to be taking care of us so that when I have the days where I’m too scared, I think about them, and it drives me—it drives me to do what I’m doing today.” (Jeanette Archer June 26, 2021, London, United Kingdom)

It was almost too painful to hear—her words were like needles piercing our comfortable reality, destroying our perception of the world, knowing how all the authorities are enmeshed in its satanic web. Their power is derived from harnessing demonic entities and making up new laws as and when necessary to silence and discredit whistleblowers. Crushing opposition to their will by any means necessary—all dressed up as philanthropy and keeping the vulnerable safe. The absolute evisceration of truth tellers in the way that a slave master might demonstrate to the other slaves their fate should they dare to step out of line. This is baked into the system that we pay for with our taxes, and we have been conned into believing it is for the common good.

Many people on that sunny Saturday realised they were born to be here to fight this spiritual war. These psychopathic narcissistic individuals think that the more innocent the victim, the more horrific death is, the more magic is produced, and the more power they receive, regardless of whether you believe it or not. The reality is that they believe it’s true. The MK Ultra experiments implicitly employ the information that came out of cult ritual abuse, satanic rituals, and trauma-based mind control by the predatory class that nobody would dare reveal.

“What is that stuff—is that the adrenochrome that the rich and famous use?” Trev asks.

“The oxidation of adrenaline in blood,” I say, rubbing my head to relieve the tension.

“Who knows what they do with it?”

The missus makes her way to the freedom busker.

Rubber wristbands emblazoned with the word freedom are in a bucket beside the performer.

His assistant grabbed a handful of wristbands, scattering them into the crowd. The missus eagerly grabs a wristband, slipping it onto her wrist with a smile. As the music begins, she joins in with the crowd, feeling a sense of unity and empowerment in the shared message of freedom.

In this alternative reality, my mind grapples with the concept that a global cabal of paedophiles is harvesting chemicals from the blood of children to stay young and healthy.

Could there be scores of adrenochrome farms popping up across an embattled Ukraine and other war zones?”

Is this the criminal orchestration of war? A war for profit plunging us humans to even lower depths, disposing of inconvenient truths, but also a cover to harvest body parts, syphon blood, and adrenal fluid from the dying?”

In the shadows of our reality, there lurks an ancient and insidious force, an unseen hand that tugs at the strings of human fate. It whispers in the ears of men and women, compelling them to heed its call and march blindly into the fray of a war they cannot fully comprehend.

It is a duty that demands sacrifice and drives them to the brink of sanity and beyond.

This is no ordinary war. It is a conflict that spans dimensions, a battle for the very soul of humanity. Traditional strategies falter in the face of such an adversary, for this is a war of minds and spirits, where intellect and technology are but tools in a greater cosmic struggle.

Yet, amidst the chaos and despair, there is hope. For those who have fallen, their spirits linger on, guiding the living from the ether. They offer wisdom born of experience, insights gleaned from lifetimes of struggle. Their voices echo through the corridors of time, urging the living to learn from their mistakes, to honour their sacrifice, and to stand firm against the encroaching darkness.

But this war is not merely fought on the battlefield of flesh and blood. It is a war of consciousness, and each battle is for the very essence of what it means to be human. Across countless lifetimes, souls are locked in a perpetual struggle, reincarnating again and again in a ceaseless cycle of redemption and despair.

In the face of such adversity, it is imperative to understand the true purpose of our existence. As it has been said, there are only two important dates in a person’s life: the day they are born and the day they realise why they were born. To know one’s purpose is to grasp the very fabric of reality, to transcend the limitations of mortal existence, and to embrace the higher calling that lies within.

So let us heed the call of those who have come before us, drawing strength from their guidance as we stand against the tide of darkness. Let us wield our spiritual weapons with courage and conviction, for in the end, it is our collective will and understanding that will determine the outcome of this interdimensional conflict.

The long, bright day has now become night, and we are homeward bound.

“Slow down, slow down!” my missus shouts as we approach a bend in the road.

“What on earth?” I hit the brakes. A rodent scuttles quickly across the road. I watch in amazement as it disappears into the darkness of the verge, a reminder that even the smallest creatures have a role to play in the grand scheme of things. I am about to take my foot off the brake and accelerate.

“Wait!” my missus screams.

I see nothing in the car’s powerful headlights. Suddenly, a large shadow emerges from the darkness, revealing a massive deer standing in the middle of the road. My heart races as I realise that there are another two other deer in close pursuit; they twitch nervously. The deer look around frantically, unsure of which way to go. I hold my breath, hoping they will make it safely across the road.

“God, that was very close,” I say.

“Can I breathe now?” Trev asks. “Let’s give them a moment,” I reply, still shaken by the close call. “Yes, you can breathe now,” my missus chuckles nervously.

As we continue our journey, I can’t help but feel a sense of awe at the interconnectedness of all living beings.

We stop in the lay-by to drop Trev off.

“I wanted to hear what Jeanette had to say,” Trev begins. “It was so unbelievable, so terrifying, but I know she is speaking the truth.”

He gets out of the car; he looks tired. As he walks away, we can see the weight of the information he carries with him. Jeanette’s words have left a lasting impact on Trev, and I wonder how he will navigate this new-found knowledge.

Me and the missus look at each other; our hearts are also heavy with the burden of knowledge. We continue on our journey. The road ahead is long and treacherous, but we are determined to see it through to the end.

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